


i want to be bad sometimes

by Sylv



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/F, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 01:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylv/pseuds/Sylv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hales are a family of vampires, not werewolves. Laura decides to show Cora how to best enjoy herself as such, and takes her out to a dance club.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i want to be bad sometimes

Cora’s slamming doors again, which can only mean that there has been some kind of familial argument; maybe Derek was exhibiting middle child syndrome once again, and taunting her simply for the rise. Maybe mom and dad had vetoed her latest attempts at trying to get them to enroll her in public school. Whatever the reason, there was no need for her to splinter the wood of the doors in the house. Laura can feel her sulking soaking the walls.

When she opens the door to Cora’s room, she’s met with the girl lying facedown on her bed, hair a mess, fingers clutching at the bedspread. Her nails are digging in, and there are quiet but telltale noises that mean the ripping of stitches.

Before Laura has a chance to say anything, Cora says into the comforter, “I know you’re there. Go away.”

Laura feels her eyebrows shoot up towards her hairline. She does not go any closer to her younger sister, but stays in the doorway just the same. Her voice is casual when she responds. “Mom and dad not go for your tinted windows idea?”

Cora turns her head slightly so that she can look at Laura through the veil of her hair. “Shut up. You’re out of the house, you don’t have to follow their stupid daylight rules.”

“You won’t be in the house forever,” Laura answers, her expression softening without her meaning it to. “When you’re on your own, you can go out in the sun with all the umbrellas you’d like.”

“You don’t know that. They changed the rules with Derek, he’s still in the house even though he’s not in school anymore.”

Laura rolls her eyes so hard she’s pretty sure Derek can hear it from behind his closed door. “They didn’t change the rules. You know him, family above all and whatnot. He’s going to stay with mom and dad for another fifty years or so, mark my words.”

A muffled string of expletives is released into the fabric of the bedspread. Upon reflection, Laura can admit that Cora has a reasonable complaint. As the only child still underage, she was only one left living in the house on any permanent basis when the family was attacked a year ago. She is therefore the only one who has to follow the new rules about how they are going to live—rules that their parents came up with.

Twelve months ago the Hales were a family just the same as any other; many relatives, large holiday gatherings, bratty little kids that Laura had to deal with on an almost daily basis despite living in her own apartment in town. She had a reasonably well-paying job as a secretary to an asshole high up in the chain of bureaucracy and was making plans to save up so that she could travel the world at her leisure. Derek was sending out his resume after having just graduated from college, and her parents were raising the youngest in her last few years of high school.

It had been during one of these large family gatherings that the attack happened. Laura, Derek and Cora had been arguing over who should have to do the mountain of dishes left in the wake of their family dinner. Derek and Laura had also been nursing glasses of wine and allowing Cora small sips when no one else was in the kitchen. The rest had been relaxing in the living room, laughter increasing in volume as they got progressively drunker.

It had been something that, with their current enhanced senses, they would have noticed immediately. As it was, the rustling and creaking out on the back porch went unheeded, and Laura graciously took it upon herself to heave out the trash. 

There was no way she would have been able to prevent it. With movements faster than she could follow she was knocked to her back, pinned with inhuman strength and had the side of her face shoved into the wood of the deck.

When the teeth latched onto her jugular, she vaguely remembers screaming.

Laura wakes up what must be hours later and sees the bodies of her family scattered across the lawn. Her heart lurches and she feels herself gag, but nothing comes up. On her knees, one hand pressed to the bloody but healing tear in her throat, she shuffles over to the nearest person.

It’s Cora. 

Her shrieks must have echoed through the trees, but their house is far enough into the woods that no one would have heard her. Which turned out to be a good thing, because everyone woke up eventually, and they would have been hard pressed to explain the dried blood on the lawn when there was not a single mark on them.

Everything was disorienting at first: sights, smells, sounds. Hot water in the shower was searing, ice in her drink unbearable. She shivered in the slightest breeze and winced at the faintest hum of music in the next room over. Sunlight burned her skin, even through windows. Laura had to learn her body over again, and her family members were right there with her. No one had escaped the attack, nor, it seemed, its consequences. Even Uncle Peter camped out in their house while they adjusted.

Those first few weeks could not have been harder on them. They drank from every living thing they could get their hands on, and the forest animals that had once been a regular occurrence in the yard now avoided their property. The first and only venture into town was disastrous, and they fled, leaving a trail of dead civilians behind them.

Ever the pragmatist, Talia Hale set out to learn all she could about what was delicately being called ‘the condition’. And in a matter of days, she uncovered the group of people who had done this to them.

They had wanted more members, the people explained, lounging in their dark house together. They needed not to feel so alone, and who better to recruit than a family already so large?

These people had made a crucial mistake in their calculations though, and this was the capability of the Hales for anger. Anger that, in the first few weeks that they were turned, was intensified into an obsessive rage. Organized, they hunted and ripped the hearts out of the people who had attacked, fed on, and turned them, one by one.

That had been a long time ago, now. Since then, Laura has quit her job, learned to tune out unimportant sensations, and angle umbrellas so that she can walk out in the daytime if need be. Things have gotten easier bit by bit, but she can claim to have been the luckiest of them all—turned at an age she could be content with forever, finished with her education, already supporting herself. 

Laura knows that Cora has a lot of pent-up frustration over the unfairness of it all. How she will be seventeen forever, how even as her mind ages her body will not and the limits that will set for her. She isn’t ready to die yet, not even close, but she is ready to turn eighteen in more than just name.

It is with a heavy cloud of pity hanging over her that Laura sits on her sister’s bed and places a hand on her back, between her shoulder blades. “Hey,” she says. “Why don’t we go out tonight?”

“Yeah right,” Cora snorts, rolling so that she can make eye contact. “Like The Parents will ever let me out.”

Laura smiles. “I’ll take care of them. You just worry about what you’re going to wear. I’m taking you to a club. Pre-eighteenth birthday present. Senior year of high school present. Whatever. Let’s blow off a little bit of steam.”

Cora’s hesitant when she acquiesces, but Laura can see the eagerness just beneath her expression. It’s about time she learns how to enjoy herself as a vampire; god knows that Derek isn’t going to do that for her. Anyway, the hunger is beginning as an itch deep beneath her skin.

Laura leaves Cora to her uplifted mood and checks on the Hale parents downstairs. They’re simmering, Talia tapping out a rhythm on the table with her fingers. Laura schools her expression into something she hopes is neutral and enters with a small cough.

Laser focus is what she gets, the glares of both slicing right through her. Her parents are just as scary undead as they were living.

“I’m taking Cora out tonight.”

Frowns. Furrowed brows. A moment of thoughtful silence before dad asks, “And Derek?”

“What do you think? Holed up in his room, as usual. Maybe he and Uncle Peter will play some wholesome board games later.”

“Maybe…”

“I’m not taking him with. This is going to be a girls’ night, sister-to-sister bonding. Don’t ruin this for us. Think of the silent treatment that you’ll get if you don’t let Cora come out.”

That elicits a laugh. They wave her off with shaking heads and quirked lips, and Laura goes to dig out those skirts and dresses she buried somewhere in the back of the closet she has here at the house—it wouldn’t do for someone to come stumbling upon those at inopportune moments.

A few hours later and it is nine. Laura has Cora by the hand and is pulling her out the door before anyone has a chance to see what she is wearing and lock her in her room forever. Cora’s skirt is a deep red-purple color, and almost short enough that is should be illegal. Laura sweet-talked her into a halter top that shows off her back, and let her borrow a pair of heeled boots that leave her legs exposed. She looks much older than the seventeen she is, and Laura couldn’t be prouder.

“My little girl’s all grown up!” she had said when she saw her at first. Cora had punched her in the arm.

Instead of heading straight to the club, they hit a restaurant for a meal, allowing themselves the chocolate desserts and dishes dressed up almost more than they are. Laura can practically feel Cora’s muscles loosening up. By the time they leave over an hour later, she is smiling, hooking her arm with Laura’s, and not even complaining about the urge to drink that she is surely feeling.

The bouncer at the club doesn’t even ask for ID, which Laura fully expected. Girls almost always get in with no problems, no matter what their age. Beside her, Cora shuffles and shows too many teeth when she smiles at him, but her nerves dissolve into disbelief when she whispers at Laura, “I can’t believe I got in!”

Laura laughs at her, the noise swallowed up by the sound thudding around them. She drags her sister over to the bar, and throws a few bills down, asking for shots. Cora is staring around at the writhing bodies and flashing lights, couples in corners and booths pressed too close together, when Laura presses a shot glass into her hand.

“Tequila,” she shouts over the din, and downs hers without blinking.

Cora’s coughing might be an indication that she needs a few seconds, but Laura is already giving her the second shot and will not settle for anything less than its consumption.

After that, time starts moving at different intervals. There are more drinks between them. Strobes light the scene around her in still frames, Cora with her hands in the air, Cora with her hair in her face, Cora and the shadows of her body that are so much more mature than Laura ever noticed.

Laura waits for her hunger to reach its pivotal point—loud enough that when she finally drinks it will taste better than ever before, but not so out of control that she won’t be able to stop before she kills someone. She steers Cora out of the middle of the dance floor and into the darker corners of the place. She leans down so that her mouth is by Cora’s left ear and says, “This is what I came here to show you.”

She points, feels her breath shift the strands of hair by Cora’s ear, does not stop herself from leaning in closer. “Not them on the floor; see how they’re dancing? They’re drugged up, and whatever’s in their system will be in yours too, once you drink from them.” She points elsewhere. “Stoner kids. Fine, as long as you don’t mind the high. And the drunk ones, who are tricky. You’ve already had some, so you have to be careful what else you ingest otherwise you could be stumbling home.”

The time skip finds them on either side of a boy, younger than Laura but older than Cora. His head is thrown back onto Laura’s shoulder, eyes closed, and she has a hand over his mouth, although his protests died out a while ago. The venom from their teeth had taken a while to kick in, competing with the alcohol in his system. He tastes like gin, like sweet, hot copper all the way down her throat, like sweat and youth. She meets Cora’s eyes over his shoulder where she is fangs deep into his chest, rolling her body up against his, eyes wide and pupils blown. His limbs weaken against them, and they both pull their heads back with a sucking noise, blood running down their chins. Laura wipes at the blood with her fingers and sucks them clean, shoving him away so that he falls into the empty booth behind them.

Cora throws back her head and laughs, teeth shining and stained red, hands running over her body like she has never felt anything before. She grabs the damp material of Laura’s shirt and pulls her close, saying, “Again, again. Let’s do that again.”

The next one is a girl ambushed on her way back from the bathroom. Laura can feel the pulse in her veins, the excruciating pull of bittersweet life. A group of people pass them and giggle, taking in the half-lidded eyes of the girl and the two sisters wrapped around her. Laura has one wrist, pressed chest to chest with this girl with her arm around her waist, and Cora drinks deeply from the other, licking languorously at the weak beating of the pulse point.

The girl murmurs softly—nonsense. Laura traces her tongue delicately over a fang and leans over to nuzzle her younger sister as she finishes up her meal. Cora lets the girl topple onto her knees and wipes the back of her hand across her mouth. Laura grabs it and kisses the blood away from the overheated skin. With a sharp tug Cora pulls her up by the hair and kisses her full on the mouth, exploring and savoring the remnants of the girl, so light and fresh on their taste buds. 

Laura’s hands are now full of her little sister, sweat mingling with sweat as they claw at each other, lips and teeth and nimble fingers hooking into waistbands. They’re pressed up against the grimy wall, and Laura could fuck her sister right here, could eat her up and watch as she comes apart against her fingers.

She groans and drops her head. Her eyes are closed against the sight of flushed skin and rumpled clothes when Cora bites her. Sinks her teeth into the flesh of her neck and it feels like Laura is on fire, like she could sink into a bed and explode out of her skin all at once.

When she pulls back, Cora is smacking her lips, looking drunk and contemplative. “It tastes different when it comes from you,” she tells her, cocking her head to the side inquisitively.

Laura kisses her again.


End file.
